


Orientation

by shit-escalates (Schm0use)



Series: Modern Institute [1]
Category: Red Rising Trilogy - Pierce Brown
Genre: College AU, Embedded Images, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 02:56:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4246815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schm0use/pseuds/shit-escalates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The newest crop of freshman look like something the cat dragged in, but if he's going to be stuck with them for the next four years, Fitchner might as well give them some words of wisdom before he sets them loose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Orientation

“…and above all, remember, that an Aureate’s honor does not stem from the position of his birth, but rather, what the Aureate strives to achieve with the opportunities they have been given…”

For what felt like the hundredth time that morning, Dean Fitchner Barca stifled a wide and enduring yawn. It was the last day of Orientation Week at the Aurum Collegiate Institute, a day he hated with a passion, just like every single other person assembled on the campus quad that bright fall afternoon. Even President Augustus, currently delivering the rousing keynote speech would rather be elsewhere, but he was a whore for Lady Tradition and wouldn’t call off the hours of speeches, regulation reminders, and self-congratulatory pats on the back.

A gentle breeze sent tiny remnants of newly cut grass wafting into Fitchner’s nose, and he sneezed mightily. A few seats down from him, Vice President Pliny Velocitor shot him a disapproving glare, as though his allergies were disrupting the sanctity of the occasion. Of course—Pliny was the only god damn person there who actually wanted to be, because he got to give a speech. He loved hearing himself speak to a crowd of hostages because it was the only time they would listen to him.

Augustus reached the climax of his speech, raising a proud fist in the air and Fitchner barely refrained from launching into the biggest eyeroll ever initiated in human history. They weren’t marching into battle, they were just starting a new term. Though, he had to admit as he glanced out at the student body, trying to rein in this newest class might be a little closer to waging war than giving lectures. He recognized some of the incoming freshman. It was going to be an interesting year.

As Augustus relinquished the podium to Pliny—god help them—amidst applause, Fitchner’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it.

Pliny took center stage, hands raised as though to fend off the remaining smattering claps from the audience. Fitchner’s phone buzzed again.

“My dear, dear children,” Pliny began and Fitchner tuned out immediately. His phone buzzed a third time. Well, he’d tried.

He leaned back in his seat nonchalantly and pulled his phone out of his pocket, hiding it on his right where Nero and Pliny wouldn’t be able to see it. Next to him, Venus snorted. He had three pending texts.

 

_Here’s to hoping it’s Pliny_ , Fitchner texted back hurriedly, dropping his phone back in his pocket. At the other end of the row, he could see Apollo typing out furiously on his phone, but Pliny was wrapping up his speech. Fitchner was up.

He smoothed a sheet of paper with his prepared remarks on the podium, pulling out his reading glasses. He glanced out over the crowd.

“Morning—or, rather, good afternoon. Hey, time  _does_  fly when we’re having fun, doesn’t it?” He chuckled at his own joke. No one else did. “Well. I am Fitchner Barca, Dean of Student Admissions. Most of you at least have some idea of who I am… because you passed the first hurdle, which was getting in. Now, you have to make it through the next four years. So I’m here to talk to you about expectations…”

He trailed off, peering over the edge of his glasses as they all stared back at him, waiting for him to begin. Good lord, they  _were_  a sorry lot, weren’t they?

Near to the front row, he spied a pair of familiar faces. The Augustus twins, the President’s children, were reluctantly seated there. Virginia looked irritable, which may have had something to do with the fact that she was sandwiched between Adrius and another girl dressed all in black. Fitchner searched his memory for a name—the Falthe girl, Lilath, wasn’t it? There were twigs in her hair, and her skirt looked torn. From the way she and Adrius kept slyly glancing at each other, he could put two and two together.

He took a breath to start again and a soft retching noise cut him off. It came from a boy in the back with a bandaged hand, green complexion, and brown paper bag in case of emergency. He was seated next to an older girl, an upperclassman, if Fitchner recalled correctly, with dyed red hair and loud clothing. She was patting the boy on the back, though it appeared to be helping minimally, if at all. Interesting, that the Fabii and Julii kids had found each other already.

Behind him, Nero cleared his throat. Right, the speech.

“Expectations at the Institute—”

A loud commotion from the other side of the quad made him pause again, as a group of students came racing across the lawn.

“Oh, for  _heaven’s sake_ ,” Pliny hissed. “Have you still not learned how to control that boy?”

Fitchner sighed. At the head of the group of students, balancing two trays full of Starbucks drinks, was his son, Sevro. He was, as usual, accompanied by his gang of wayward friends. One of them shouted, “I told you the damn thing started at noon,” and Fitchner snorted. He was fairly sure Sevro had known it started at noon.

They took their seats loudly. Sevro had found, and was wearing, a large pair of heart shaped sunglasses—the entire group were all very clearly suffering from hangovers. He began passing around the Starbucks drinks as they started to settle down. All the moving about jostled a large boy in the seat nearest to Sevro. He was probably the tallest freshman Fitchner had ever laid eyes on, scouted for their sports program probably. Fitchner wasn’t sure what his name was—he had less influence over that area than Jupiter did.

Next to him was a girl Fitchner recognized as one of the scholarship students. Not one of his in particular. She came from a family of former wealth, now bankrupt. But their daughter was still hardworking—Pebble, he thought her name was. Or maybe it was a nickname.

Speaking of scholarship students—he scanned the crowd, searching for two faces in particular. One he did not see present, which wasn’t encouraging. But the other he found seated squarely in between two unlikely candidates.

Darrow Andromedus glanced back at Sevro’s unruly gang in what seemed like amusement. Next to him, Cassius Bellona rolled his eyes in that special way that could only be achieved by someone who believed they were truly better than everyone around them. Fitchner briefly debated challenging him to an eyerolling contest to humble him, before deciding to wait for a better time and place.

On Darrow’s other side was Julian Bellona. Fitchner wasn’t as surprised to see this half of the Bellona twins associating with someone common-born, but the family was notably insular, and too proud of their standing in society. If Darrow had managed to befriend them already… that boded well for the Sons of Ares candidate. Fitchner’s scholarship program needed to prove successful in its first year off the ground, or the Board would cut it. They were already skeptical as it was.

The expectations of the Aureates, as it were. Fitchner shook his head, smirking. All they expected was that these pampered children stayed quiet while in school, and stayed rich once out of it. But he had other plans. And so, he addressed the class of 20XX.

“Expectations at the Institute are high, kiddos.” He said. “And so far, you’ve failed to meet them. Miserably.”

Now he had their attention. People glanced up from their cell phones, stopped chattering amongst themselves.

“ _Fitchner_!” Pliny hissed from behind him. Fitchner grinned and continued.

“You’ve got two choices while you’re here. Keep your nose down, study hard, and graduate with honors.  _OR—”_ Fitchner crumpled up his remarks in one fist, the paper crunching loudly into the microphone. “Experience life. Learn  _why_ you do things, not how. Misbehave. And graduate a legend.”

As if on cue, there was a loud  _whoop_  from over the hill. Everyone turned as one to see a boy sprinting naked across the grass, campus security following at a run. The boy stopped for a brief moment to moon the entire crowd, and was tackled for his troubles. He laughed maniacally as they shoved him to the floor.

“The Rath kid’s got the right idea.” Fitchner said, tossing the speech over his shoulder. It hit Pliny in the face with a soft  _plap_. The VP looked outraged. “Welcome to ACI.”

A huge cheer went up from the crowd as Fitchner stepped away from the podium, tucking his glasses back into his pocket. The teachers’ behind him were displaying far more varied reactions. Nero was stone-faced, but resigned. Bacchus and Venus were all applauding as enthusiastically as the kids. Apollo was pinching the bridge of his nose and biting his lip, making every effort not to laugh. Pliny looked livid, no doubt as a result of Fitchner stealing his imagined thunder.

Fitchner sat down again, grinning. Ah, yes, how he hated the last day of Orientation week.

**Author's Note:**

> The opening "speech" of a multi-author, semi-multimedia blog for a Red Rising college AU: [modern-institute](http://moderninstituterr.tumblr.com/). There's more content there than just what I have contributed!


End file.
